


Piroutte

by cledritch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ballet, Ballet terminologies, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Growing Up, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Introspection, M/M, Mentor Sicheng, Pining, Reconciliation, Slow Build, Unresolved Emotional Tension, ballet dancer renjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 06:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15455088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cledritch/pseuds/cledritch
Summary: An empty seat burned into his mind. He always keeps a seat empty.(Or Renjun has complicated feelings about the return of his former ballet idol...when he was resolute he'd rather never see him again.)





	Piroutte

**Author's Note:**

> Ate Clint, para sayo 'to.

The orchestra came to an end, the ringing in his ears still in tune to the trumpets of the last act. There’s sweat dripping down his nape, soaking down his puffy collar and he kept his head up with his feet in fifth position, arms outstretched. He’s leveling his breathing as he waited for his cue and when the crash of thunderous applause started, he moved his left heel behind his right foot and bowed with a flourish. The material of his costume made it hard but he managed before raising his head up with a smile.

He paused when he caught someone’s gaze, mouth dropping before he schooled his expression into a neutral façade. The manager on the side of the stage called for him, telling him to prepare for the matinee night and change. His professionalism won over the conflict in his head and he waved at the crowd as he walked over to where he was supposed to exit. Before he disappeared into the backstage, he looked over his shoulder just to confirm what he saw.

There was no Dong Sicheng in sight and he hoped that it was just his eyes deceiving him.

 

Huang Renjun didn’t start ballet just because his parents’ influenced him. While he’s grew up in a family where the majority have their names linked to the stage whether it be acting, theatre or even dancing, his mother was always telling him to follow his heart. She was a retired prima ballerina who left her company after she gave birth stating that she didn’t want to compromise her time with her family. Still, she did take Renjun with her to shows she was personally invited to and it was when he was four, he watched a recital for the ballet dancers that the ballet company showcased.

There was a moment where Renjun saw an older kid lifting one of the girls in an angle, his leg held up to support her before it ended with the girl pirouetting after she landed. His eyes glued to the kid who held her up twisted and then proceeded to jump in tune to the music.

He stared at the simplistic movements of kids mostly his age, clad in tights and tutus while they did their best on perfecting their choreography.

It was messier than the professional stages his mother took him to but Renjun was in awe.

His mother smiled at him when he tugged her skirt and asked if he could study ballet.

There were a lot of misconceptions about boys taking up ballet. They were frail, delicate and considered girly but his mother taught him from the very start how male ballet dancers were astounding. She introduced him after shows to the male leads, muscled men who were trained to the art of discipline and endurance especially with how one wrong slip could injure them. There was more to ballet than twirls and the easy grace with every movement. It was about a strict maintenance that came with nonstop practices and keeping their bodies in top shape to minimize injuries.

Even the prima ballerinas and the best principal dancers practice six days a week and must be aware of themselves. Renjun during the first days of training learned that there were so many important points to ballet that he almost collapsed in exhaustion nearing their preliminary recital. Then at the day they were supposed to, Renjun had taken a turn for the worst that he failed to start his dance.

That was when he first spoke to Sicheng. Seven-year-old Renjun trying not to cry as he realized that the instructor is disappointed in him for missing the steps but he can’t understand his words because his Korean wasn’t good. But the expression the woman held and how she’s very forceful in her hand movements made him feel guilty for not trying hard enough.

“Ma’am, the president wanted to speak with you.” Renjun raised his head to look at the older boy who has his backpack slung on one shoulder and his hand holding a half-eaten steamed bun. Renjun recognized him from the recital, watching the kids and he felt more ashamed.

The teacher excused herself, giving Renjun one last stern look then patting the older boy’s head before leaving. The latter gave him a smile, breaking off a piece of his steam bun and offered it to him. Renjun stared at blankly, unsure if this was some joke.

“Don’t think too badly of yourself.” He said in Chinese. Renjun’s eyes widened.

 “You speak Chinese?” he said dumbly before he took the piece and eating it in one bite. He flushed when the boy laughed then nodded.

“Were you having a hard time with the choreography? I can teach you!” He exclaimed, tugging on his arm and leading back inside the practice room that was now devoid of people. “I’m sure they’ll give you a second chance.”

“Are you sure?” Renjun gulped, worried that his mother would probably fight the teacher for this. He’s not that confident with his skills yet despite how he learned the steps easier than he thought and he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

“What’s your name again?”

“Renjun.”

“I’m Sicheng,” the older boy introduced, holding to the one of the steel barres that decorated the room and already postured for first position. It was common knowledge to stretch before anything else after all. “And come on before my mom picks me up. I’ll give you pointers.”

They practiced for an hour, Sicheng being patient enough to actually hold Renjun’s hands up when they were too low and use his toe to guide his feet to the right angle. He executed the right jump, helping Renjun up when he stumbled in some parts. When it was time for Sicheng to go home, his mother struck a conversation with him as the three of them waited for Renjun’s mom to pick him up too.

Renjun was glad she could understand him when he asked “Did Sicheng learn ballet early?”

She shook her head, chuckling “No. He started your age but he’s always been into dancing so I guess that’s how he managed to advance so early.”

“He’s good.” The compliment slipped out of Renjun’s mouth before he could stop it.

“He loves dance. Can you believe he took Chinese traditional dance too? Such an overachiever!”

“Mama, I’m right here.” Sicheng stuck out his tongue.  

When Renjun turned back to him after his mother came and ushering him inside the car, Sicheng is waving at him with a bright smile and yelling “See you tomorrow!” This sent Renjun flushing as he climbed up the backseat, his mother teasing him about his new friend.

It was a fond memory he hasn’t thought of in a while.

 

There’s a bouquet passed to him by one of the staff, complimenting his makeup and congratulating him for a well-executed performance. It was protocol to them now but Renjun still felt a little sheepish carrying these extravagant arrangements with their big bows and excessive crepe paper bundling the fresh blooms. Today was a mixture of hyacinths and white lilies all framed by baby blues and tied with a detailed knot that looked like braids. While it’s not the biggest, it surely was pretty and Renjun sniffed them daintily.

His nose bumped on a piece of paper hidden between the petals of a lily. Strange, he thought as he readjusted his arms to hold the bouquet on the crook of his arm to pluck the ivory card with his free hand. Renjun scrunched up his nose at the fancy gold lining and his name written in elaborate cursive before flipping it over to see the words ‘For the years that passed, for the missed moments, I return with only my apologies to offer.”

He doesn’t hesitate to crumple it. The flowers taunt him that he almost dropped them, the colors nauseating to look at when he realized what they symbolized. The colors he wore to his recital where everything came crashing down and he was left to stand on his own two feet when the rest of him felt like breaking apart.

Renjun feels like he’s thirteen again with his heart stomped over during the most important moment of his life, helplessly searching as he almost missed a cue when he realized it wasn’t there.

An empty seat burned into his mind. He always keeps a seat empty.

It’s how he coped for the last six years.

 

Ballet dancing wasn’t just an old walk in the park.

Renjun has a schedule he followed to the very minimum: a hearty breakfast at 9 AM and then going to his ballet class at 9:45 where he is learning methods to follow through his jumps and technique without falling to his butt. With every ballet dance class, he got bruises on his legs when he made a mistake and his mother would scold him for not taking care of his body but also help him put some cream on them to ease the sting. Renjun’s still lagging behind his classmates who all giggle at him when he doesn’t get the instructions right but they do help him when they follow their steps. The teacher mellowed out considerably after she scolded him, not as helpful as Renjun wanted her to be but Sicheng drops by when he finished his own class to help him instead.

Sicheng’s schedule as Renjun learned was stricter than his own. He’s considered a prodigy, already in intermediate ballet classes at his young age and he started his day at 7:30 with the rest of his day dedicated to Chinese traditional dance. It’s on Fridays he had a full ballet class while on Saturdays he would have the other. There were moments when they’d practice that the older boy seemed to be limping but he always dismissed it with cramps from practicing for hours on end.

“You should see the hip hop dancers that practice in the same building. They’re really good. It’s so different from ballet. They do this freestyle like they’re gonna pop a limb or two.” Sicheng murmured, both of them on the far end of the room as Sicheng sat with his back to the glass. Renjun hovered over him, hands on the barre as he stretched his leg out before leaning his weight on it.

Renjun rolled his head, rotating his shoulder too as he lowered his body to try to ease himself onto a split “Are they nice?”

“They’re in high school so they think they’re too cool for us but Yixing-gege likes to teach me cooler flips when no one’s looking. Minghao got jealous of it when I showed him a back flip the other day.”

They’re conversing in Mandarin, the other kids too busy chatting in Korean to actually notice them. If they did, it would be to wave at Sicheng and start small talk but soon gave up when their attention spanned to something else to entertain them. “Aren’t you afraid of getting injured?”

Sicheng pouted, shaking his head lightly “Always. Mama told me that I shouldn’t sit down immediately after I dance because the blood could rush to my brain and slow me down. Dada keeps telling me she’s lying to me but I’m making sure.”

 Renjun envied how carefree he was but he winced when he can only manage to suspend his legs enough that it looked like a split. The pain was unbearable and he jumped back up, knocking his ankles against each other and sighed. “Where’s your friend?”

Sicheng jumped to his feet when he saw how Renjun was struggling, holding the barre too before dropping into a split like it wasn’t anyone’s business. Renjun felt like punching him a little because really? He’s just showing off again. Sicheng grinned widely, kicking one leg over the other and resuming his position from before, looking up at the younger “Hao said he’s going to sulk until I admit he’s my best friend and not you.”

This made Renjun’s grip slip, blinking cutely before asking “What did you say?”

“He’s my best friend for now.” Sicheng rolled his eyes when he caught the minuscule disappointment on Renjun’s face “Jaehyun’s my best friend from school anyways.” This only made Renjun’s heart plummet and he doesn’t understand why. It was okay if he wasn’t Sicheng’s best friend but it still stung.

Though when he caught Sicheng’s stare this time, it’s softer and the kind of look that always sent Renjun smiling warmly in return. It only sent his stomach swarming with butterflies when Sicheng confessed only loud enough for him to hear “You’re my special friend.”

He swore that he would do anything to make Sicheng proud of him. No matter what. Too bad that the only time he thought he could, Sicheng wasn’t there to see him.

 

There’s a tension in the room when he arrived the next morning, duffel bag on one shoulder and in his workout clothes. The trainer he usually met wasn’t here yet and it was odd, considering that it’s almost thirty minutes to seven and punctuality was always important to the both of them. They couldn’t have cancelled either. Not when Renjun has another show in the neighboring city to practice for the next month. He left his bag hanging by the hook near the door, slipping off his sneakers to wear his canvas slippers and stretching a little, holding onto the barre to curve his body towards it in counts of eight. He repeated it before he lowered himself on the floor to lie on his back, kicking the air in a circular motion as if he was riding a bike.

Renjun never really cared how he looked to non-ballet dancers. Those who work with him are used to the strange movements he makes when he’s doing his workout. He doesn’t blink when he’s stretching his leg out while he rested his weight on the heel of his opposite foot and the door made that distinct squeaking sound whenever it opened followed with tapping.

“Seonsang-nim, we need to run down the set so that we can match it with the platforms that I-“ Renjun trailed off after he got back up, twisting his body as he looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened “-set up.”

Sicheng blinked slowly, processing the sight of him before he shook his head to remove him from his stupor. Renjun is too shocked to stop his jaw from slacking, mouth open. There’s a sudden pitfall in his stomach, his hand hovering in front of him as he clenched his fists. He felt nauseous, the room already spinning but he swallowed the bile that’s threatening to climb up his throat. This wasn’t real. He turned to the mirrors too fast he almost had whiplash, trying to stare at the reflection to see if this wasn’t some apparition (that would mean he thinks Sicheng died and he did…at least, the one Renjun knew because he’s long buried Sicheng in his memory he might as well be gone).

But Sicheng reflected on the mirror, dark hair windswept and forming a comma over his brows and dressed in a yellow sweater and beige pants with his leather shoes-clad feet pointed outward, heels drawn. The first position any ballet dancer learned as early as five. He has a cane hooked on the crook of his elbow, polished black with the silver handle shaped like a snake with sapphire eyes. He still has that youthfulness on his face, the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he narrowed them and how he kept chewing on his lower lip reminded Renjun of the same boy who broke his heart.

Without realizing, Renjun’s expression morphed into disgust. He can feel the fury bubbling within him, his nostalgia buried underneath that he doesn’t acknowledge he missed Sicheng so much it always made it hard to sleep at night without any medication. The elder looked resigned with his gaze fixated on him, lips pursed.

Renjun doesn’t give him the satisfaction of questions. He haughtily whipped his head away, jutting his chin out as he moved over to grab his bag so he can go to the office to ask about his trainer and ignore this reunion. But alas, Sicheng hindered his path, not moving as he regarded Renjun with thinly veiled fondness. Who gave him the right? He fumed, making sure he doesn’t stomp over lest Sicheng realized he cared and maintained a neutral expression. He’s matured. He doesn’t want to be petty when he’s still trying to understand what the hell Sicheng is here for.

 Renjun brushed past him, storm brewing in his eyes and when he is about to reach for his bag, heard something indistinguishable from behind him. He doesn’t acknowledge it at first, slinging his back on his shoulder and standing there for a few minutes, unsure. The child in him wanted to be petulant, make a ruckus and ask Sicheng what the hell he was doing here after five years of silence. He wanted to lash out, demand answers and maybe give him a piece of his mind.

But he doesn’t. Renjun doesn’t have the energy to give a fuck.

Sicheng does, however. He doesn’t turn around, just stared on the mirror as he spoke “You were great last night.”

Ah. So he was there. And the flowers only could have been his too. Renjun felt like a fool.

He bit down the venomous words that wanted to escape and took a deep breath, the silence stretching between them uncomfortably. There’s a sensation of holes being burned on his back that’s probably from Sicheng staring at him through the mirror but Renjun’s tongue felt like lead, too heavy to form words.

Sicheng isn’t deterred as he unhooked his can, a resounding tap echoing in the room when the end of it made contact with the floor. “But you messed up your cue on the third act.”

“What does it matter to you?” Renjun snapped, eyebrows knitting and he gritted his teeth. He’s aware of his mistakes and he doesn’t forget them even when the show is done, honing them again and again until he collapsed from exhaustion. But Sicheng doesn’t need to shove it into his face. Asshole.

There’s another long silence. One where Renjun considered hightailing out the door away from Sicheng but the words that he heard after only made him stifle a gasp and looked back at Sicheng with wide eyes, their gazes finally meeting.

There is no nonsense when Sicheng said “It matters to me as your new mentor.”

Renjun doesn’t manage to hide how he gagged.

 

Sicheng was a good teacher for a thirteen year old. He’s long advanced in his classes that Renjun barely saw him inside the building because he’s always sent to compete overseas. Renjun struggled less with the language now that he doesn’t need Sicheng to keep translating for him but there were times he just missed the elder’s presence. The first two years of them always together when the events were favorable, practicing everything that Sicheng was taught beforehand. The elder liked brushing up his skills while Renjun wanted to be able to reach Sicheng’s level so the two of them could stand in the same stage one day. But with how Sicheng barely has time for him with the pressure on him, Renjun is left with loneliness especially when the other kids comment that he’s been spending a lot of time with the star student. The kids saw him as intimidating or with the more envious mothers influencing their child, using Sicheng to make himself be chosen for lead roles. The latter kind was worse when the teacher seemed to think the same way, making it harder for Renjun that the kids would giggle when he actually fell down when he was forced to do a set he wasn’t ready for.

Why the school didn’t see this injustice baffled him.

It was a comfort that Sicheng’s friends, his self-proclaimed best friend Minghao and a quiet kid called Junhui would always have his back when they found out about it. Minghao especially who’s been in trouble for tattling to the other staff that were much kinder than the rest and Renjun is joined by Junhui in his classes to make sure he can have evidence against them.

“Sicheng told us to take care of you while he’s gone.” Minghao said while they ate their lunches, an apple for him while Junhui shared his caramel bites with Renjun.

Renjun blinked then looked down at the caramel covered pastry in his hands in embarrassment “He doesn’t need to.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Minghao shrugged as he took a chomp of his apple, chewing loudly.

Junhui sighed, using a napkin to wipe the juice dribbling down the other boy’s chin “You’re a talented person,” he started, turning to Renjun again “And Sicheng sees potential.”

“He wants to teach dance.” Minghao’s words echoed in Renjun’s mind for the rest of the day, the sheer idea of Sicheng not being in the spotlight dancing as he accompanied the other lead dancer perplexed him. Why would Sicheng choose to teach what he’s considered to be the very best at?

There’s a lot that Renjun doesn’t understand about Sicheng. Like how he can be so strict with himself he barely has time to do anything else but still manage to hang out with his school friends, how he’s considering learning more hip hop to incorporate into his sets to give a modern take on ballet and especially how he would always give him something, be a trinket that he hooked on Renjun’s bag or a simple little rock he picked up on his trip, after he came back. Sicheng who would smile tiredly when he visited the room Renjun was practicing in, listening to the soft music from the radio and then sit with him in silence, enjoying each other’s presence. Renjun would let Sicheng rest his head on his lap so he could sleep for a few minutes, brushing his hands through his hair and singing a little tune that Sicheng liked. It’s always a ballet melody or perhaps a Chinese rhyme that Renjun would put a beat into so it could resemble a song. Amidst the jumps he needed to correct and trying to adjust to the weird growth sprout Sicheng got due to hormones as he explained, Renjun would wonder where the strange flutter in his heart came from when Sicheng whispered his name with a smile on his face as he is lost in slumber.

 

Just because Renjun knew Sicheng used to be an amazing ballet dancer doesn’t mean he was prepared for how grueling his training for him was.

Sicheng made him wake up at five in the morning, calling him with his ringtone set in a rather obnoxious sound that would make the neighbors scream at him and when Renjun was a minute late, he would be subjected to twenty push ups to compensate. Sicheng would watch him jog around a park five times (ten if he was less merciful) and then give him enough time for a water break before they walk to the dance studio. Sicheng’s limp doesn’t hinder him. In fact, he can overtake Renjun because when the latter was distracted, he would swipe his cane at his ankles to make him jump. Renjun had to hide how he winced when they walked up the stairs because he was hit right at the bone of his ankles too many times.

It was harder in the actual routine. Sicheng didn’t move his legs much but his precision of knowing exactly where Renjun made a mistake, when Renjun would stumble on a flip and even when he hesitated trying to lift Sicheng up to see how much weight he can carry, scared the younger.

Sicheng was not called the brightest student of his generation for nothing.

“That’s not how you do your grand allegro.”

“Your toe isn’t level with your hip. Steady.”

“Demi-plié, Assemblé and then a Tour en l'air. Keep your mind in this room and not in the clouds.”

Renjun wanted to contradict him that he wasn’t supposed to be so critical. And yet he found himself doing everything he asked the same way except he tried to adjust his small movements. Sicheng only seemed to remind him what he should do, a strange thing really and Renjun wished he understood where the animosity came from. Sicheng wasn’t the one who was abandoned in the middle of the stage when he announced to the crowd that he was thankful for Sicheng’s guidance. He wasn’t the one who kept practicing and practicing, snapping at anyone who consoled him about Sicheng’s absence while he lost sleep. Renjun who has built an impenetrable wall around himself that every time someone wanted to offer him support, he would withdraw abruptly. He is aware of his limited trust, mature enough to let the world know enough but guarded to the point no one can understand most of his quirks.

Sicheng slammed his cane on the floor to snap Renjun’s attention again, eyes cold and Renjun bit back the retort that it should be him that deserved to be angry.

Minghao came around lunch time. Renjun had limited contact with him since Sicheng disappeared, betrayed by the disappointment in his veins and refused to talk to the elder even when he approached him. At the end of his semester in dance school, Minghao didn’t do anything but stare at Renjun as if he was sorry. Sorry for something that he had no control over and Renjun just needed an outlet to let out his frustrations. It wasn’t healthy. So seeing Minghao with a devious look on his face that slowly melted into confusion, dressed in a suit with briefcase in hand, Renjun stumbled his landing from a grand jeté. Sicheng’s displeasure is evident, scrunching his nose as he turned his head to where Minghao is staring at them.

“That’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow.” Sicheng told Renjun, walking over to Minghao and whispered something to him in an annoyed tone before he left the room without much of a glance.

Renjun wiped the sweat on his neck, licking his chapped lips from the lack of water breaks and went to get his towel to get rid of the sweat on his face. He grabbed his bag, scared of being in the same room with Minghao and he expected him to follow Sicheng too because hell, Minghao probably knew where Sicheng was for the last few years. He zipped his bag a little too forcefully, slinging it over one shoulder. A cold sensation on his cheek made him jump back in alarm, Minghao’s laughter echoing as he offered the water bottle he procured out of nowhere.

Renjun, never impolite, took it. “Thank you?” he said, opening the cap and taking one long swig with a sigh. It’s not his best response but he really doesn’t want to feel awkward especially when he spent the whole morning trying not to ask Sicheng questions neither of them were ready for.

Minghao smiled at him “Glad you two are okay being in the same room. I would have thought you’d give him the cold shoulder or scream at him.”

Renjun flinched. He’s thought of that a lot so he doesn’t protest. But he still bristled at the casualness Minghao exuded. “I’m more civilized than someone who thought that they’d rather not see my show than tell me that they didn’t like my dancing.” The words came out breathy, knocking the wind out of Renjun because he can’t keep it in his chest without it eating him away. Minghao might not understand or worse, he would take Sicheng’s side because what _does_ Renjun know? He felt a headache forming on his temple, cheeks aflame and Minghao opened his mouth to say something but Renjun spotted movement by the door, the evidence of someone who came in halfway.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t let me-“Minghao apologized, shoulders tense “Renjun, there’s a lot you don’t understand but you need to hear it from him. He’s stubborn but he will give you the truth you deserve.”

“I don’t want it.”

There are only so much lies that Renjun can make in a day and he bid goodbye before he went home with only the gut feeling that Sicheng had heard him before. It’s only when he’s out of the building does he look up to see Sicheng staring down at him from one of the open windows before Minghao joined him, closing it just when Renjun can faintly make out how Sicheng is wiping his eyes.

 

The drizzle that greeted him during when he went out for training the next day took him by surprise, huffing as he hurriedly pulled his umbrella out. He doesn’t mind the rain drops that splatter against his toes, his sandals not fit for this weather. He’s still glad that he packed his training shoes because it would have been soaked in mud at this point. He adjusted the handle of the umbrella, letting it lean on his shoulder as he rounded the corner where there’s a small abandoned park that he liked to relax in before he went to the gym. It’s hidden behind a large patch of trees with branches that spanned over the rusted playground that time has eaten away, the trails now sporting clusters of clovers and weeds while creeping ivy has taken over the destroyed pedestals.

This was where Renjun’s mother took him during Sundays as a child, a secret place he never told anyone. It was here that Renjun could let his thoughts run amok before leaving them behind so he wouldn’t be burdened with them when he was dancing. He goes here when he’s stressed and all he wants is to sit on the grass listening to the calming sound of the piano notes from his ear buds until he has finished compartmentalizing all the nostalgia that hits him and he can face the day without any distractions.

Lately he hasn’t had the time to come here, stress piling up that he loses sleep and misses cues so he decided that today he would at least have thirty minutes of time for himself. It’s what he deserved.

He doesn’t expect to see Sicheng soaked to the bone, black shirt stuck to his skin and uncaring of the drizzle that leaves droplets on his spectacles. The elder is saying something underneath his breath, lips moving to form the words but Renjun is too far away to hear him. The sight of Sicheng’s profile, nose red from the cold and the rain drops too light to hide the tears that fall down his flushed cheeks. Renjun always likened him to the sun but all he saw at this moment is a different Sicheng. There will always be a part of Renjun that sought out the child Sicheng was, caring and supportive whose hand fit well with his. But Sicheng’s frame betrayed these thoughts, the ever slightly different posture that didn’t betray Sicheng’s upbringing. Renjun doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s standing in front of Sicheng, umbrella over the both of them and Sicheng seemed too dazed to understand that there is someone with him.

Disconcerting. It was a rapid difference from the tense atmosphere between them that no one knew who started but in this silence, Renjun pondered if he was being too petty to not understand that Sicheng wouldn’t leave him for any stupid reason. Was Sicheng as bad of a person as he led himself be deluded to? There were so many things he didn’t want to understand because anger was easier. He can act the victim all he wants but it wouldn’t change the fact that Sicheng never contacted him and he continued on to prove to himself that he can accept the rejection for the support he gave concern for the last few years. People weren’t always made to be honest with themselves, all filled with second guesses and can’t even have the heart to refuse even when it’s hurt them. Renjun can pretend he was good to himself but he wasn’t good with other people. He can be alone but he will never be on his own.

There are ghosts that haunt his every move, a plethora of symphonies made from his doubts cultivated into echoes that whisper to him deep at night as he searched and searched for what he’s lost. He, just like Vivian from the Haunted Ballet, is haunted with Sicheng’s memory that he will always look for him even when he doesn’t realize. With every empty seat, wayward glance from Sicheng’s old friends and the sinking feeling of being better but never being good enough, Renjun remained trapped in the past.

It never changed that he’s loved Sicheng dearly to ever think he can let him go and it scare him.

The elder blinked, taking off his spectacles to clean them with his sleeve before using the same one to rub over his puffy eyes. Renjun is frozen, trying to not choke on his breath when Sicheng looked up to him, narrowing his eyes in confusion before he put on his spectacles to finally realize that Renjun is there. His face morphed into a funny look, lips pursed and eyes narrowed into slits that he expected him to be upset. But then it melted away, the strain on his features softening as he lowered his head.

“Let’s go home.” Renjun started, heart thundering in his chest. Sicheng looked at him as if he’s seeing him for the first time, emotions flitting like a rollercoaster between every blink and he nodded slowly, standing up.

They walked back the trail, past the crushed clovers and weeds that brush past their pants as foxtail barely hitchhike on Renjun’s pristine white socks. Renjun apologized when the head of his umbrella knocked on Sicheng’s head, a low chuckle silencing his protest as he brushed their fingers when he took the handle to raise it higher, tilting to the side so his shoulder is exposed to the rain all the while protecting Renjun from it.

The discussion doesn’t happen that time. They walked home, right in the ballet studio where they simply enjoyed a cup of tea in the cafeteria, waiting for the cold to subside.

 

Sicheng doesn’t speak to him beyond a few corrections as per usual the next day but there’s a hesitation that Renjun noticed when he walked to the door, his cane aiding his steps but every once in a while he paused while moving his head to the side. There is this stretch of time where Renjun can sense the elephant in the room, his mind racing when Sicheng seemed to turn around but stopped mid-step. There is disappointment that Renjun can’t hide and he stared at Sicheng’s retreating back before he continued practicing the new choreography that he tweaked.

At least, Minghao seemed to be more persistent about making Renjun and Sicheng meet outside of their classes. He’d drag Sicheng to where Renjun is eating in the cafeteria, talking to both of them and trying to find a common ground until Sicheng finished his own meal and went crawling back to his office. Renjun, on the other hand, would talk more to Minghao to catch up. It’s the least that he can do after everything.

“I don’t blame you for reacting that way. If Jun did that to me, I’d be a little bitter but forgiveness just depends on the person, don’t you think?” Minghao beamed.

They are sitting inside the old practice room for kids that’s been turned into a storage room, boxes of old props, posters and even costumes stacked here while some chairs are propped up to put more boxes on. Minghao has two foldable chairs for them to sit, opening boxes he plucked from beside him to see what was inside for no reason than boredom. Sicheng’s having a meeting with the board for the upcoming showcase and Minghao thought it would be fun to relive this room where he first met them.

Renjun is holding what looks like a miniature nutcracker with a broken arm when Minghao spoke again “I really didn’t know where he was when he didn’t arrive at the recital.” This made Renjun stiffen but he continued moving the nutcracker’s jaw, as he listened to the clack of the movement. Minghao continued “I only knew when my family told me after being contacted by Sicheng’s parents.”

“Why did they-“

Minghao shook his head “I can’t tell you that. Sicheng’s planning to tell you hopefully,” The elder scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically “God, he’s so stupid for dragging it to years instead of contacting you and not relying on me to check up on you.”

“No one wanted this.” Even though he\s unsure, the world is too unpredictable to predict whatever could happen at the moment.

“But that doesn’t make it an excuse.”

The nutcracker’s eyes glinted like they knew something he didn’t, tracing the chipped wood of its cheek and then jolting when its heavy jaw clamped on his finger when he wasn’t aware. Renjun can’t help but think back to the Nutcracker ballet where all the answers were there all along and yet no one realized until the very end. If Sicheng needed saving from whatever haunted him he knew how but just couldn’t. Just like the Nutcracker needed the aid of the Sugar Plum Fairy, Sicheng wasn’t the only one who needed to make the move.

He threw the doll onto the tabletop, the thud it made making both him and Minghao jump. Then laughter as Renjun spied Sicheng looking at them through the glass window of the door with a wistful look on his face.

“If this were his very own ballet, he’s not the only actor needed to make it better.”

Minghao has no idea what he meant but as they got outside and Sicheng looked at him over his shoulder when they left in opposite directions, Renjun already made up his mind.

He’s doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

 

Sicheng is still a dancer, even with his limp.

He nodded to the music whenever they practiced, lips moving as if he’s reciting the French counting they’ve been taught since childhood and when he thought Renjun wasn’t looking, moved his normal leg as if mimicking a turn and hands following suit to the rhythm. It’s ingrained in him, that desire to feel the notes with his body and yet he stops himself every time he feels Renjun looking at him. And there’s the guarded look that comes back as he yells at the next set of dance moves they need to cover as if there’s not a tinge of tremors in his hands when he points at the younger.

Renjun, however, is still shocked to find him trying to dance when he came to the dance studio unannounced on what was supposed to be his day off. He was having a hard time nailing the final 540 battement en rond without hitting his ankles when he kicked too fast and while there were lucky shots where he can do it, he wouldn’t risk it. It was better to get second opinion than leave it to luck. So here he was, staring agape with the door ajar as he stared at Sicheng in what seems to be the start of an arabesque, except he’s using his cane for leverage with a hand curved over his head.

Sicheng took a deep breath, his leg straining to hold his entire weight when he lets go of his cane, the item clattering on the ground that startled Renjun but managed to slap a hand on his mouth to stop any noise from escaping. He can see how Sicheng’s brows are furrowed in concentration, teeth sunk on his lower lip as he ever so often twitched his eye when he moved his limp foot. He hissed when he tried to raise it higher than he was capable, clenching his eyes shut before his knees buckled and hit the floor with a painful sound. Renjun’s immediate response is to run to catch him, somehow still being unnoticed as Sicheng forced himself to stand up again, elbow on one thigh to massage the ankle of his foot before he stood up, wobbling a little. This made Renjun stop and in his horror, watched him start in fifth position with difficulty. That’s usually the start of a grand pirouette and if Renjun is right about what he’s trying to do then-

Sicheng’s demi plié is sloppy, eyes without a spotting point to ground him and he made a pained sound when he actually used his limp foot for leverage. It could be out of habit that he raised his other foot but there was only a moment where he turned and without the spotting point to guide him, he lost balance. It’s rather comical how his eyes widened despite the obvious grimace of pain, teeth gritted as Renjun scrambled to catch him. Their combined weight toppled the younger over, falling on his butt hard enough that he can feel the bruises forming already but Sicheng’s legs tangled with his own on the process.

Sicheng’s too shocked to move from where he’s buried his head on Renjun’s shoulder, shoulders starting to shake as more time passed and the latter tried to rub comfortingly over his arms. In  their fall, he’s managed to embrace him and the proximity is overwhelming to say the least.

“You must think I’m pitiful, don’t you?” Sicheng whispered, raising his head with his warm breath down Renjun’s neck. His breathing is labored from the strain, the distinct sound of him clicking his tongue echoing clearly in Renjun’s ear. “This is my karma for all the empty seats I left for you. For the first recital I missed. Are you happy now?” he spat out, volume in his voice rising and Renjun can’t help but dig his nails on Sicheng’s arms where he held them.

And Sicheng continued, frenzied and shaken as his words starts jumbling altogether in his panic “Ever since that car accident, I’ve been under my parents’ supervision. Don’t do this, don’t do that. They made me forget all about pursuing dancing to keep their business up and running. It was just a past time, they kept saying. It wasn’t meant to be if that accident was God’s plan to show me the right path. They never understood. They took me to America to recover and when I was fit to walk, they made me take business.” He sucked in a breath, hand clutching is mouth before he continued “It isn’t my place to dance anymore, not like this but here I am because at least one of us is still here, reaching for that dream. Renjun, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your first show.”

Sicheng is close to sobbing but there’s still restraint in him to not show too much of the anguish that Renjun can hear in his voice. He’s always been closed off with himself lately it’s like seeing him regress to the Sicheng Renjun once knew, vibrant and determined to make things right. He was the mature one when they were younger and now, Renjun smiled wistfully, he was the one lost just like how Renjun used to be.

“You have a place in dancing.” Renjun chuckled lightly, loosening his grip on Sicheng’s arms to wrap his own around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You always have a place in dancing when my heart is so set in reaching you through it. Because if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

He heard Sicheng’s sudden intake of breath, stiffening against his hold. He held him closer, closing his eyes as he thought back to the melodies of the times they were in the practice room, humming the song that Sicheng loved the most. He’s heard it play when Sicheng was in his office, asleep on his chair with a blanket over his lap while the strange beat and tempo echoed in the soundproof room loud enough that it could be a disturbance if anyone could hear it. It wasn’t classical because there was a different vibe to it than most pieces of the genre held and Renjun once sat down in the office while Sicheng was asleep to memorize it. It sounded like an instrumental pop song, the admission from Minghao about Sicheng listening to more pop songs lately only made Renjun wonder where it was from. Except he’d always forget and end up just humming it on the way home without even knowing what it was called.

But it worked as Sicheng seemed to calm down, leaning his weight onto Renjun and their position should be uncomfortable but it isn’t. This was theirs for the time being and anything from the past cannot reach them when these things should be left in the past. There are a lot of uncertainties they cannot easily let go but the longer they hold on, the longer they’ll hurt each other. Just like how ballet is not just about grace and beauty and there will be grueling training to achieve such movements, there will never be a smooth path between them without compromise.

Renjun just wanted to let it go now. They’re looking for forgiveness from each other when they only ever hurt themselves blaming their own selves. There’s too much time left for them to waste it in old wounds.

“Will you be there at the showcase this time?” There’s so much weight in his words that he doesn’t realize he’s tightened his hold around Sicheng’s neck.

“Please…” Sicheng wheezed, patting on Renjun’s arms and rocking back and forth to get away “Stop choking me first.”

Renjun promptly squeezed him hard one more time before letting go, laughing sheepishly “Well?”

Sicheng’s trying not to smile too much, unshed tears threatening to spill but he rolled his eyes and pinched Renjun’s cheek “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, brat.”

They have time to fix the past by focusing on their present.

“I’m always present in your performances.”

“As an empty seat?”

“I’m there in spirit. And I could only support you from far away with expensive bouquets to mark my presence.”  

(There’s a sense of pride that surged through his entire being when the entire audience stood up and the crashing applause would have startled anyone else but Renjun just held his partner’s hand, smiling brightly as he turned to the audience and bowed in a plié with her. There’s still the rush of adrenaline in his veins, making him high on the energy as if he didn’t just dance for two hours in every set. He raised his head, peering through his lashes. The bright spotlights made it hard to see and his partner is congratulating him with a hushed whisper before he returned the gesture.

People are throwing flowers on the stage, something that was not uncommon and he used his palm to shield his eyes from the flare of the lights just as he heard his name being called, then a blur of something being thrown at him. Renjun made a strangled sound of surprised as he caught it in his arms, confused. Why would there be a bouquet thrown at him when it usually is given afterwards?

It took him a minute to realize before a smile broke out of his face at the bundle of light red carnations stargazer lilies tied with a red string. It’s not extravagant as the others he’s received but he held it to his chest as he looked over the designated seat where Sicheng threw him a kiss with the proudest smile on his face.)


End file.
